The Past Does Not Define Us
by Lots-of-Little-Pink-Clouds
Summary: "I'm sorry." Those two words shot like an arrow through his soul and Theodore found that there was nothing he could do to stop himself from falling. Slow burn. Extremely slow burn.
1. Memories

**A/N:** This was originally for Coruscanti Clover's Choose-Your-Wand Challenge, but then I decided that it would be much better as a multiple chapter thing. I think I'll update every two weeks or so (I already have five more chapters done already), but there's no guarantee.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter.

 **Title:** The Past Does Not Define Us

 **Rating:** T

 **Pairing:** Theodore Nott/Hermione Granger

 **Summary:** "I'm sorry." Those two words shot like an arrow through his soul and Theodore found that there was nothing he could do to stop himself from falling.

 **Warning(s):** Mentions of child abuse and suicidal thoughts

* * *

 **Chapter 1: Memories**

Dusty old books bring back memories for Theodore Nott.

The feeling of the pages beneath one's fingers, crinkled and well-worn, yellowed from age with text scrawling from left to right. He remembers his mother when she had been alive, a book open on her lap as she would sit and read to him before he went to bed, candlelight giving her dark hair a golden hue. Her blue eyes would scan the pages before her, her soft voice reciting poetry and fantasy as young Theodore listened in rapt attention, his own blue eyes wide and lips slightly parted. _He had been young then and believed everything would have a fairy tale ending, even if his father was not a nice man, even if his father had killed his beautiful and kind mother._

Fantastical tales, historical facts, knowledge unheard of and waiting to be discovered. He remembers playing hide and seek with a young Draco Malfoy in the Malfoy family library, giggling to himself because he knew that the Malfoy heir would never be able to find him, the room was simply too large. Draco would always whine about Theodore cheating, but he would simply reply that he was being resourceful. _They as well as their fellow Slytherins learned to be resourceful, learned to hide and be unseen by the Carrows during that disastrous last year. No one was safe, not even the children of the Death Eaters._

Hard, sturdy covers, slightly dented from being accidently dropped too many times to count. _He remembers accidently dropping his spoon during dinner and his father's narrowed and cold gaze turning to him. Theodore remembers his heart stopping, he remembers forgetting how to breathe. He remembers the feel of his father's hand clenching tightly around his arm and pulling him to his office – he remembers the curse making him scream for his mother, even though she had been dead for three years at that point._

Dusty old books bring back memories for Theodore Nott.

Not all of them are good.


	2. Home

**A/N:** YES! MY EXAMS ARE OVER! WHOO HOO! (But seriously, do you really expect me to update within two days? Nah son, I got work and I'm lazy as shit)

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter.

 **Title:** The Past Does Not Define Us

 **Rating:** T

 **Pairing:** Theodore Nott/Hermione Granger

 **Summary:** "I'm sorry." Those two words shot like an arrow through his soul and Theodore found that there was nothing he could do to stop himself from falling.

 **Warning(s):** Mentions of child abuse and suicidal thoughts

* * *

 **Chapter 2: Home**

Theodore felt at peace in the Hogwarts library.

It was well-stocked with books of all sorts, as expected from a school of Hogwarts' caliber – but there weren't any books on the dark, forbidden arts; even the restricted section never delved any further than neutral magics. It was large – but not as large as the Nott family library, which could become a maze and constantly rearranged itself to his father's whims; no matter how hard Theodore tried to hide, his father would always be able to find him (he learned pretty quickly to never hide in the library).

There were comfy chairs and tables to do work, _unlike the Nott library where the tables and chairs moved to trip and hinder him if he tried to run_ ; the books would always return themselves to the shelves when you were done with them, _and he didn't have to worry about his father punishing him for not putting them away himself_ ; and even Madam Pince, the Hogwarts librarian, was tolerable as long as you handled the books with care, _unlike his father who would be more likely to seek him out if the dust on them were so much as disturbed_.

At Hogwarts, Theodore didn't have to constantly look over his shoulder for his father, though meddling and pranking Gryffindors were not much of an improvement; at least with them, he needn't worry about being put into the Hospital Wing for longer than a week (usually).

In the Hogwarts library, Theodore felt at home.

Even when his father was carted off to Azkaban in his fifth year, Death Eater robes and all, and the students all sneered and spit on the ground he walked on. Even when Draco became pale and withdrawn with dark bags under his eyes from lack of sleep in their sixth year, and Theodore helped him keep up with his classwork and ignored the disdainful whispers. Even when the fighting came to Hogwarts in his seventh year, and then was swiftly ended, leaving the survivors silently mourning the dead.

Even with everything that Theodore has been through, Hogwarts and her library would forever be his home.


	3. Gone

**A/N:** Holy crap guys, my marks just came in and I barely passed by the skin of my teeth. Since I'm in such a good mood, I've decided to upload this next chapter early!

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter.

 **Title:** The Past Does Not Define Us

 **Rating:** T

 **Pairing:** Theodore Nott/Hermione Granger

 **Summary:** "I'm sorry." Those two words shot like an arrow through his soul and Theodore found that there was nothing he could do to stop himself from falling.

 **Warning(s):** Mentions of child abuse and suicidal thoughts

* * *

 **Chapter 3: Gone**

Theodore remembers wandering the grounds of Hogwarts in search of the bodies that needed burying not long after the battle had ended, after the Dark Lord had been defeated once again by Potter.

After his father had been killed – blasted off the Astronomy Tower to the ground below, unable to save himself as his wand flew from his hands, out of reach.

Theodore found his mangled body in the greenhouses, the shattered hole in the glass ceiling where he had fallen through the only thing letting light in. He had landed on top of one of the wooden tables, causing it to collapse in on itself and sending everything on it into a mess on the ground. There was blood pooling onto the dirt-covered floor from a wound on his head and for a moment, Theodore could only stare.

He half expected the man to groan, to blink his vacantly staring eyes, and slowly sit up. He imagined him noticing him before hissing and spitting like he had done many times before, his face, so much like Theodore's own, twisted into an ugly sneer, ordering that Theodore heal him. His body moved on autopilot, stepping towards the broken form and kneeling down beside it and with a wave of his wand, he began casting every healing spell he knew (and Theodore knew a lot of healing spells; it was, unfortunately, necessary with who his father was).

He stopped the bleeding, closed the wound. Upon finding the multitudes of broken bones, he healed those too. But with each wound that was patched, Theodore found himself becoming more and more distressed, his breathing becoming more and more laboured, and he wasn't sure why. With a panic and an anxiety that made his movements frantic, his Slytherin mask crumbled, breaking and shattering into pieces onto the bloody floor and all he could think about was how it _was all his fault how his father would kill him if he couldn't do this one thing how he would deserve every last crucio because he was a useless excuse of a wizard-_

A hand came to his shoulder and he jerked as if he had been burned.

"He's gone."

Blaise Zabini, normally so flamboyant, normally so confident, was kneeling next to him, ironed dress pants dusty and covered with splatters of dried blood, his lips turned down in a frown. His crisp white buttoned up shirt was caked in dirt, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his dark hands calloused and felt damp from sweat. He had lost his green and silver tie sometime during the fight when the Slytherins joined in, but he didn't seem concerned.

This was the most fucked up that Theodore had ever seen his friend, and the calamity of the situation came back to him. His father. His father was dead. _His father was dead_. _His father was dead just two feet away from him_.

Theodore didn't know whether to laugh in relief or cry.

Blaise simply pulled him into a hug and said nothing.


	4. Unease

**A/N:** Another early chapter for you guys :) I actually had something different planned for this chapter, but then figured that it didn't exactly fit into the story. I actually like this version much better. And for those of you who are wondering when Hermione is going to show up, don't worry, it'll be soon, I promise.

Finally, if you enjoy this fic so far then you should check out Colubrina. Most of this fic came as inspiration incurred by their work, especially their After-Hogwarts stories – they usually describe the fallout of war and how it affects the people involved, both on the winning side, but also on the losing side.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter.

 **Title:** The Past Does Not Define Us

 **Rating:** T

 **Pairing:** Theodore Nott/Hermione Granger

 **Summary:** "I'm sorry." Those two words shot like an arrow through his soul and Theodore found that there was nothing he could do to stop himself from falling.

 **Warning(s):** Mentions of child abuse and suicidal thoughts

 _Reviews:_

 _Guest:_ You're welcome?

 _Myfoodisnotshared:_ Thank you, thank you :) I want to say something else, but I can't find the words right now to describe how happy it makes me that people like this story.

 _SB- Potterhead Budgie Lover:_ Thanks!

* * *

 **Chapter 4: Unease**

There was a lingering coldness to the Nott family manor.

Ever since Theodore was a young boy, the place had always filled him with an inexplicable feeling of dread, a wariness and paranoia that creeped up his bones and forced him to always be hyperaware of his surroundings, even when there was no danger. But in truth, there was always a danger in Nott manor.

The portraits on the walls on the way to the dining hall were for once silent, generations of Notts peering down at him as he made his way through the drafty halls, their hallowed eyes and rabbit like faces no doubt evaluating the new lord of the house. Out of habit, Theodore's shoulders tense as he breathes out of his nose. The prickling feeling of them watching him made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end and he couldn't have been happier to reach the end of the hall, shutting the door behind him hastily; anything to escape their judgemental and piercing stares.

With a sigh, Theodore finds himself at the farthest end of the Nott's dining room table, across from his father's large velvet chair at its head.

He remembers sitting to the left of his father when he had been younger, silent and only answering 'yes father' or 'no father' when he was spoken to, which wasn't often – he knew the consequences of answering any of his father's probing questions with an 'I don't know'. He remembers how his mother, tall, dark haired, and unbearably fragile, would be at his father's right, her back straight and sitting just as silent as her son as her husband talked about his day while at the Ministry; Theodore learned from his mother that it was better to remain silent in order to avoid unnecessary punishment.

He remembers how after his mother's death, his father would sometimes not be present, most likely holed up in his office working. These were the times when he believed that his father was grieving his wife, after all he did love her in his own (twisted) way, even though it was technically his fault that she was dead (though Theodore would never say so out loud). These were the times when Theodore would be caught between relieved and terrified; he would not have to bear his father's presence, but what if Nott Sr. saw it as an offense that he would begin to eat before the lord of the house? More often than not, it was times like those which Theodore dreaded the most, resulting in him not eating at all and going to bed hungry.

He leaves the dining hall, shoulders just as tense as when he entered and makes his way back down the long hallway of portraits to the entrance hall. He doesn't so much as glance at the library door when he walks past, though he will never admit to another how his feet speed up and he begins to walk faster.

He needs to get out of here.


	5. Loneliness

**A/N:** I'm sorry guys. You're gonna hate me so much for this chapter (or love me, depends really). Poor Theodore can't get a break. But don't worry, Hermione will show up soon and make everything better (or possibly worse, haven't decided yet). Also, I'm sorry for not updating as quickly – I wanted to get back onto that two week schedule that I promised at the beginning. I have completed a few more chapters, but not enough to warrant uploading at the same pace as the others.

Speaking of which, some chapters might be delayed in future – I'm taking a few summer courses and want to devote time to my studies, in addition to work and other activities.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter.

 **Title:** The Past Does Not Define Us

 **Rating:** T

 **Pairing:** Theodore Nott/Hermione Granger

 **Summary:** "I'm sorry." Those two words shot like an arrow through his soul and Theodore found that there was nothing he could do to stop himself from falling.

 **Warning(s):** Mentions of child abuse and suicidal thoughts

 _Reviews:_

 _xXMizz Alec VolturiXx:_ Thanks!

* * *

 **Chapter 5: Loneliness**

Theodore didn't know why he came back.

Perhaps it was nostalgia. Perhaps he just wanted to finish his final year properly. Or perhaps it was the fact that he didn't want to be locked up in that damn old manor up in Wiltshire anymore, where the rooms were starting to collect dust because Theodore had taken the Nott family house elf, Poxy, with him when he moved out (he talked to the goblins and managed to rent an apartment _far_ away from Diagon Alley; the stares, sneering, and spitting in his general direction were not worth the extra effort if he could avoid it).

Not many people had come back.

Theodore understood – there were too many memories held here, too much blood that had been spilled in the halls that many of the others had trouble unseeing. Unfortunately for Theodore, he had nowhere else to go.

At this point, he had gotten used to people sneering, hissing, sometimes tripping him in the halls on his way to class. It wasn't something that he hadn't dealt with before (fifth year comes to mind, though it was on a more condensed, more isolated scale), nothing that he couldn't handle. He never admitted out loud though how it hurt to be ignored when he had a question that needed answering or how sometimes the sneering, hissing, and tripping became jinxes, hexes, and curses.

He never admitted that he missed Draco's smug condescending attitude, _because Draco was under house arrest and he couldn't owl him_ ; he never admitted that he missed Blaise's confidence and flirty nature, _because Blaise left the country to return to Italy in order to finish his education_ ; he never admitted that he missed Crabbe, _because he was fucking dead_ ; he never admitted that he missed Daphne and her cold unfeeling expression ( _she was being homeschooled after deciding that the distain was too much to handle_ ), Pansy and her haughty smirks ( _she was planning her wedding and looked on the verge of tears the last time he saw her_ ), Goyle and his silence ( _he disappeared, the loss of Crabbe hitting him especially hard_ ).

Theodore never admitted that sometimes he went up to the Astronomy Tower late at night and stayed there until the early hours of the morning, debating whether or not to throw himself off and just end his torment.


	6. Angel

**A/N:** I couldn't contain my excitement and decided to upload this chapter a week early. So here she is! Finally, after a long wait, Hermione has appeared! I will admit, this is probably one of my favourite chapters.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter.

 **Title:** The Past Does Not Define Us

 **Rating:** T

 **Pairing:** Theodore Nott/Hermione Granger

 **Summary:** "I'm sorry." Those two words shot like an arrow through his soul and Theodore found that there was nothing he could do to stop himself from falling.

 **Warning(s):** Mentions of child abuse and suicidal thoughts

 _Reviews:_

 _xXMizz Alec VolturiXx_ : I sure will! Thanks!

 _myfoodisnotshared_ : Thanks so much! I'll try to get more out as soon as I can!

* * *

 **Chapter 6: Angel**

Hermione Granger came back.

Granger with her untameable brown hair and brown eyes that flashed whenever she was angry. Granger who always had her nose in a book and always raised her hand, always answered questions, always knew all the answers. Granger who Theodore and his friends had called 'mudblood' on a daily basis before things changed. Granger who was a war heroine, a member of the 'Golden Trio', the 'Gryffindor Princess'.

 _Granger who Theodore had fancied ever since third year._

They had been in the same Ancient Runes class. Theodore vaguely remembers the two of them being paired up for an assignment; they had been cordial with each other, as cordial as two people whose best friends hated each other could be. She might have been a swotty know-it-all, but he found it immensely relieving to finally have a stimulating conversation with someone for once, even if he hid it behind a sneer and an upturned nose (not to say that conversations with his yearmates hadn't been enlightening, but there was only so much of the same dullness that one could take; Granger challenged him in ways that his yearmates didn't).

It helps that she punched Draco in the nose towards the end of the year – his friend could be pretty insufferable at the worst of times, and someone who could drag him out of the delusions his father had drilled into him was always appreciated.

 _If asked, Theodore would say that it was in his fifth year when his admiration with the bushy haired girl surfaced._

It had been just after his father had been arrested and sent to Azkaban. The immense relief he felt upon hearing the news was soon replaced by trepidation and anxiety when the whispers started. He could handle the gossip, it wasn't anything compared to the things his father said, but that didn't mean that it didn't hurt, that it didn't sting just a little. It surprised him that Draco hid it so well, but then again, Draco always had a habit of surprising him when he least expected it.

During that time, Theodore holed himself up in the library to escape the mutterings, the sneers, and hateful glares. One particular comment though, _it's been so long that he doesn't remember what it was_ , had nearly been enough to break his mask. His hands clenched, his jaw tight, he remembers sitting at the window seat, _his_ window seat, in the Hogwarts library, trying to calm himself down, trying to keep the emotions that were surging through him at bay. He remembers contemplating to himself whether or not it was wise to go to the library – there were so many people and anyone could have seen. He remembers thinking that it would have been better to just go to the Astronomy Tower; less people and he could contemplate whether or not it was worth it to jump.

Then suddenly she was there, her hand on his arm, startling him. He hadn't even heard her.

He had turned to look at her, derisive comment on his tongue, the hatred of himself pushed aside for a moment, and froze when he saw that her brown hair was tinted with gold from the light of the sun beaming through the window, a tiny frown on her face. Her eyes, he remembers noticing, her brown eyes had flecks of gold in them that he hadn't realized had been there before and he could finally see the freckles on her face up close. Their gazes had locked and Theodore couldn't speak, couldn't form any words because she looked like an angel, beautiful and honest, and he wasn't worthy of speaking in her presence.

"I'm sorry."

Those two words shot like an arrow through his soul and Theodore found that there was nothing he could do to stop himself from falling.


	7. Rain

**A/N:** So there are a ton of quotes in this one – you can find their sources at the end of the chapter. Also, work on future chapters should improve in quality due to how well my writing course is going. So, look forward to that.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter.

 **Title:** The Past Does Not Define Us

 **Rating:** T

 **Pairing:** Theodore Nott/Hermione Granger

 **Summary:** "I'm sorry." Those two words shot like an arrow through his soul and Theodore found that there was nothing he could do to stop himself from falling.

 **Warning(s):** Mentions of child abuse and suicidal thoughts

* * *

 **Chapter 7: Rain**

It was raining.

Theodore finds himself watching the rain fall from his little window seat in the very empty Hogwarts library. The annual Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin was an event that always cleared the castle of students, especially from the library where few ventured into unless they absolutely had to. Madam Pince had gotten that pinched look on her face when she saw him as she always did, but had said nothing as she packed up her forms and left, presumably to watch the game.

That's one thing that he had always liked about the woman – despite everything that had happened, nothing about the way she had treated him changed. Theodore thinks that she has a soft spot for him. If there was anyone he would miss if he were to die, it would most likely be her (or Granger, but even he wasn't stupid enough to admit that out loud).

He has one foot propped up on the wooden bench, his hand holding open the book on his lap, the title already forgotten since he had been thinking about other things; he had just grabbed it from one of the shelves on his way in and hadn't even really bothered with reading it. He can feel the hard cover and frayed edges with his hands and silently concluded that one, he has read it before, and two, the familiarity of the text was not without irony – it was a product of the very people which his father sought to destroy. He snorts in derision, gaze flicking down to the object in question before his eyes return to the window.

"What book would make someone give such an ungentlemanly snort?"

It was her.

He could feel his heart threaten to stop, his breath become uneven, but kept his eyes focused on the window and the rain splattering against it.

" _I am born good, and you too, and all of us are born good!" forgetting, no! pretending to forget, like misguided equalitarians, that_ _we are all born marked for evil(1)_!"

Theodore's eyes narrow as he speaks the quote, wondering if she would understand, and a glance over in her direction reveals to him the hint of a smile on her lips, the briefest twitch to her expression and one that he had never seen directed at him before.

"Baudelaire? I never knew purebloods would demean themselves by reading muggle works."

She sounded surprised, her words soaked in bitterness, suspicion, and something else. Theodore supposes that it is not unwarranted – his father would have had a heart attack if he had discovered his son's preference for muggle literature (but to be fair, most wizarding literature wasn't as diverse, completely lacking in originality; it's all about dragons and knights, sorcerers and kings, and princesses being saved from towers. Life, Theodore finds, is not as fantastical, and magic is not as godlike as many in their world believe). He looks to the book in his lap, turning it one way and then the other with a frown.

" _A book is a garden, an orchard, a storehouse, a party, a company by the way, a counselor, a multitude of counselors(_ 2)," he replies. " _The world only goes round by misunderstanding(_ 3)."

Her response is a snort, followed by the sound of her footsteps getting closer until she is standing close enough to touch. He turns his head to look up at her and finds her staring out the window, her eyes unfocused, the rain from outside reflecting in pools of chocolate that had seen too much for one so young.

"A world, a life full of misunderstanding; that's the way it is, isn't it?" she then asks, breaking the sudden silence. Her lip quivers and her eyes glisten, but she remains standing tall, unfaltering, " _Any man who does not accept the conditions of life sells his soul(_ 4)."

Theodore feels a pang in his heart at her words, but cannot within good conscious disagree with her.

" _Even in centuries which appear to us to be the most monstrous and foolish, the immortal appetite for beauty has always found satisfaction(_ 5)," he says instead. Her head jerks, snapping to look at him. He blinks, his gaze, silently admiring, meeting hers for but a moment before he turns back to the window and the rain, resisting the urge to give himself away, to confess, to say everything that he wants to say but can't because he lacks the courage to do so (and he knows that while he lacks it, she has it in spades; it was for that reason that he had fallen for her in the first place, it didn't take him very long to figure that out).

They fall into a contemplative silence, but he can still feel her staring at him, her chocolate coloured eyes raking over his form as if searching for something. It makes his stomach do flips and he has to stop himself from shuddering. He could feel her gaze threatening to tear away his mask and expose him for the world to see, _he wonders to himself whether or not he would let her_ (he would, she just had to ask).

She leaves after what feels like an eternity and a part of Theodore leaves with her. He wonders if she knows.

* * *

1 – "Notes nouvelles sur Edgar Poe" part IV (1859), Charles Baudelaire

2 – Baudelaire, Henry Ward Beecher

3 – Baudelaire (again)

4 – Baudelaire (again)

5 – Baudelaire (I think you're starting to see a pattern)


	8. Pretend

**A/N:** Been a bit – whoops. Also, super sorry for not replying to the reviews from chapter 6. I didn't realise I hadn't until I posted it.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter.

 **Title:** The Past Does Not Define Us

 **Rating:** T

 **Pairing:** Theodore Nott/Hermione Granger

 **Summary:** "I'm sorry." Those two words shot like an arrow through his soul and Theodore found that there was nothing he could do to stop himself from falling.

 **Warning(s):** Mentions of child abuse and suicidal thoughts

 _Reviews:_

 _xXMizz Alec VolturiXx_ – Thank you! (For both chapter 6 and 7)

 _hkronenb_ – Thank you! And I'm glad you like it! (From Chapter 6)

* * *

 **Chapter 8: Pretend**

Hermione Granger begins to spend time around him.

She walks with him to the classes they share (and since Gryffindor and Slytherin share many classes, and the two share all of their electives, she walks with him often), constantly talking as if nothing has changed, nothing is different. Theodore, for the most part, remains silent and lets her talk – there's a light in her eyes that he now realizes had been missing for the better part of two months (ever since they returned to the castle's hallowed halls really, and he suspects that it had been missing for a long while even before then).

He can see how other things have changed though, the way that the other students make way for them to pass; he sees the way their eyes narrow whenever they see him with her, but they never say anything, not when she's there (but when she's gone and it's just him they sneer and spit, hiss and object, their words stabbing at his insecurities because he also shares their doubts).

Theodore feels a mixture of suspicion and elation about this – why would she, the brains of the Golden Trio and war heroine, spend time with the son of a Death Eater? Why would she, a girl so beautiful and fearless and awe inspiring, want to walk and talk and spend time with him, a boy unworthy of even looking at her? Perhaps she hopes for some sense of normalcy after everything (though nothing would be the same since everyone knew that Theodore could never replace the void which is Potter and Weasley, no matter how much he secretly wishes to), or even finds comfort in his presence (Theodore, however, severely doubts that anyone could find relief around him).

Maybe he has become some sort of pet project to her; the thought of this makes bile rise up into his throat and he quickly forces it away. He would rather not be a project – he greatly dislikes the thought of someone spending time with him trying to fix something that isn't broken ( _there is nothing to fix, nothing is broken, everything is fine_ ).

He _wants_ it to be genuine, he wants _her_ to be genuine. That is one of the things about her that he admires; Pansy always called her too easy, too soft, too emotional, but Theodore is actually quite fond of this aspect of her, even if he never said so, even if he never defended her honor (and _that's_ why he didn't deserve her, even in this limited capacity. How could she genuinely want to be around him? He was undeserving and a coward, just like his mother, unable to do what was necessary, just like his father had always said…). He wasn't worthy of her, but he knew that she wouldn't believe that if he told her.

Sometimes, she would ask his opinion on something and he, being the literary enthusiast he is, would reply back with quotes from muggle books that he had read _, but never with a straight answer no that would be too easy_. Theodore believes that books hold all the answers to her questions; books are easy to talk about and to debate over, certainly easier than conversations about opinions, justice, and war. Books were safe, _unlike the memories brought about by pain and death_ , and Theodore preferred getting lost in those safe and secure worlds _because_ _at least there he could feel, at least in that fantasy he could pretend everything was okay_.

"Have you ever had a normal conversation? No quotes, no misdirection, no prose?" she asked him once.

It was late November and ice was beginning to form on the window they sat by in the Hogwarts library. They were sitting together on the bench uncomfortably close in the small and empty corner (she called it Theodore's Corner and he didn't have the heart to tell her otherwise). Despite the coldness outside, the sun bravely peeked out from behind the clouds, shining through the window and turning strands of her curly hair gold as they caught the light.

His lips had twitched upwards for a moment (remembering the project back in third year, and his stomach clenched uncomfortably since it seems she forgot) and he had answered.

" _Always be a poet, even in prose_ (1)."

Now that he thought about it, that's how it had been in class too; him never being called upon, but speaking in poems, limericks, and quotes whenever someone who wasn't a Slytherin asked him something (it had been a fun game back then; now, it's just another facet of his mask).

She snorted.

"What if there is nothing to quote? What will my poet say then?"

Theodore had shrugged, shifting uncomfortably, whether from the audacity that she would suggest him being unable to quote something or from her calling him 'her poet', he doesn't know. She doesn't notice. They had fallen into silence, reading the works of Shakespeare, Baudelaire, and Jane Austen. However, there was a feeling in his gut which grew larger and larger until he finally could not maintain the silence any longer – he needed to say something, anything (and he would later deny that he had finally had enough, that he had wanted something, anything, to change).

" _The poet enjoys the incomparable privilege of being able to be others, as he wishes_ (2)."

The quote gave her pause. He hadn't looked at her, but he could feel her gaze on him, steady and searching.

"What about the poet himself?" she had asked.

He hadn't answered, instead opting to turn the page of his book resolutely and pretend that he hadn't said anything at all.

* * *

1 – Baudelaire

2 – Baudelaire (the full quote is " _The poet enjoys the incomparable privilege of being able to be_ himself _and others, as he wishes_." Theodore deliberately misquoted the quote)


	9. Reluctance

**A/N:** I'm sorry guys – this was originally going to be a nice, cute, fluffy chapter where Theodore and Hermione were going to start getting closer and everything would have a nice and happy resolution. But then my heart went like NOPE and decided to just compile all of Theodore's personal problems and current mental state into one chapter. Whoops.

Oh by the way, I was thinking of maybe doing this story again, but from Hermione's perspective. It would be after I've finished this one, but I'm just letting you guys know that I'm thinking of it.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter.

 **Title:** The Past Does Not Define Us

 **Rating:** T

 **Pairing:** Theodore Nott/Hermione Granger

 **Summary:** "I'm sorry." Those two words shot like an arrow through his soul and Theodore found that there was nothing he could do to stop himself from falling.

 **Warning(s):** Mentions of child abuse and suicidal thoughts.

 _Reviews:_

 _xXMizz Alec VolturiXx_ – Thanks again!

* * *

 **Chapter 9: Reluctance**

A pure white blanket covers the entirety of the Hogwarts grounds, bringing along with it the cold of December.

Along with the cold come the annual galas – parties held by pureblood families to celebrate Yuletide (for Christmas was a muggle holiday and many of the old families chose to never celebrate it in such a baseless capacity). Unlike previous years, however, Theodore would be staying at Hogwarts (not in a manor where the library was a trap and the portraits watched his every move, nor with friends, as the Ministry was watching the families of those who had been closely connected to the Dark Lord); there would be no parties or galas for him this year, and he predicts, not for many years to come (not that he's entirely upset about that).

He keeps his head down when he writes his name on the list of students remaining at the castle and quickly escapes from the Great Hall before the jeers or whispers could reach his ears.

Hands in his pockets, his feet take him down the familiar halls, swiftly dodging students left right and center – it was a Hogsmeade weekend and the halls were crowded with students getting ready to head down to the village. The familiar silence that accompanied his appearance should be something he's used to by now, shouldn't it? As soon as he passes, the whispers start, as they always do.

"Isn't that one of those Death Eaters' sons?"

"Why isn't he locked up like his dad?"

"I've seen him hanging out with Hermione Granger."

" _The_ Hermione Granger? No way!"

"You think he cast the _Imperius_ on her?"

"That's the only way a Death Eater like him could ever get a girl like her!"

No, not again, not like this, not here – Theodore can faintly see his father's sneer in the middle of his mind's eye and inwardly, he begins to panic. No, he needs to calm down, but there were too many people and their voices were so loud. Normally he can deal with this, it's nothing different from what he usually hears, what he had once been told, what he is used to, but he's been spending so much time with Granger lately; why can't he bring himself to ignore it this time?

"I bet he's just like them; like father, like son, am I right?"

 _Like father, like son._

He could feel bile rising in his throat, constricting and making it difficult to breathe – there were too many people here, they were surrounding him, crushing him, closing him in with their accusations and he knows that nothing he says would be heard. No matter if he were to scream and shout, he knows that no one will listen to the son of a Death Eater, a murderer ( _cause isn't he one? He's apparently just like his father, after all_ ).

Theodore manages to tightly shut his eyes and take hastily slow breaths, enough to make him swallow the hiccups and tears threatening to escape him as he makes his way through the crowd, past the entrance hall, down the twisting and narrow corridors, then up, up, up the stairs to the top of the Astronomy Tower. The biting cold eats into his skin as he shoves the door open, the wind making his eyes water even more as he stumbles to the rail – to think, by simply climbing over it and letting himself fall, he would solve a lot of the wizarding world's problems.

He grips the rail with shaking hands, his knuckles white and his head bowed, breathing heavily.

" _Why is he even still here? It's not like he has a future_."

… No, he doesn't, not after everything his father had done.

" _Why doesn't he just die? Things would be so much better without him_."

You're useless, Theodore, just like your mother. You can n _ever do anything right. What kind of heir are you? I would have preferred a Malfoy to a son than you – at least young Draco applies himself to the cause. And what have you done? That's right,_ nothing _._

Useless.

Weak.

Coward.

You don't deserve to live.

You should just die.

"I… should just… die…"

It would be simple – he could easily throw himself off the top of the tower right now and let himself fall (just like Dumbledore back in sixth year, he thought humorlessly), but he found that he couldn't bring himself to move. He could see his breath forming in the air around him as he looked longingly at the ground, far, far below.

Even so, why couldn't he do it?


	10. Avoidance

**A/N:** This chapter actually gave me a bit of trouble. After the last one, I wasn't sure where to go next. But here's the product – hopefully it seems like a natural transition.

 **ALSO, I'D LIKE TO LET YOU GUYS KNOW THAT FROM THIS POINT GOING FORWARD, I'LL BE UPDATING EVERY FRIDAY, BI OR TRIWEEKLY**. This is mainly due to me having two courses this semester in addition to work, which barely gives me time to write, let alone update.

Truth be told, I _do_ have the next two chapters ready, but I'm unsatisfied with chapter 11 for a bunch of reasons. The problem is, is that if I change chapter 11, I'll be reconfiguring the entire rest of the story. And with the limited time I now have to write, I literally haven't made ANY progress in doing so.

So sorry about that :P

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter.

 **Title:** The Past Does Not Define Us

 **Rating:** T

 **Pairing:** Theodore Nott/Hermione Granger

 **Summary:** "I'm sorry." Those two words shot like an arrow through his soul and Theodore found that there was nothing he could do to stop himself from falling.

 **Warning(s):** Mentions of child abuse and suicidal thoughts.

 _Reviews:_

 _Guest_ – Thanks for thinking so! I'm glad that the change I made to the original chapter was to peoples' liking!

 _xXMizz Alec VolturiXx_ – Once again, thanks for reviewing!

* * *

 **Chapter 10: Avoidance**

He starts to avoid her.

It's harder than he thought – she seemed to know more of the castle's secrets than he did (though to be fair, she _was_ friends with Potter and Weasley, and those two always had a habit of being caught in places no one should be).

Sometimes, she would try catching him during class and as a result, he began making it a habit to arrive seconds before the bell and leave as soon as the lesson was over. He avoided the library like the plague, preferring to instead hide within the relative safety of his dorm room.

The only place he visited with any regularity was the Astronomy Tower, but he doubted she would look for him there, given the irregularity with which he did so.

He would clench his teeth whenever he saw her in the halls, digging his nails into his palms to discourage himself from speaking to her (hard enough to draw blood on more than one occasion; Madam Pomfrey would stare him down with a look of disapproval when he would visit her several times a week). Then he would walk right past her, eyes focused on the floor in front of him, trying to ignore the heartbroken look on her face (no, she was just upset that she lost her pet project, he would say to himself; she couldn't possibly miss him).

Despite his efforts, his heart ached and bile rose in his throat every single time.

The right choice was rarely the easiest one, he would tell himself. He had to do this. It was for her own sake. If she was around him, he would involuntarily drag her back down into the dirt that she had worked so hard to rise out of. The masses would rise against her, questioning, suspicious, waiting for the moment when the truth would be revealed, for when they could tear her down from the pedestal she was being raised upon – _for a muggleborn couldn't hold such status,_ they would say _; the world they live in could never accept such a thing_.

It was for her own good.

Even so, he couldn't help but watch her. He would sit at the back of the class, staring at the bushy mop of hair that always sat in the front row – the two seats on her right and left remained vacant, even after months of attending classes. Her hair always seemed to glow whenever the light hit it and he found himself enraptured. Meanwhile, he himself would sit in the shadows closest to the door, ready to bolt as soon as the bell rung. It was stupid how the butterflies would well up in his chest whenever he watched her, bidding him to just return to her side – he resisted the compulsion.

However, he figures that it would only be a matter of time anyway until she would confront him.

That was just the kind of person she was.


	11. Stubbornness

**A/N:** Remember how I mentioned possibly changing this chapter cause I was unhappy with it? Well, that didn't really happen. The only thing I changed was the title – originally, it was called "Unrequited", based on Daphne's unrequited feelings for Theodore – but then I remembered that this was a Hermione/Theodore fanfic and decided to cut it.

On the subject of Daphne/Theodore, I'm honestly not sure how to feel about it. On the one hand, I _can_ imagine them being a major power couple, especially during pureblood galas, what with the interpretation of both of them being stone cold badasses. But on the other hand, I like them better as being friends that are as close as siblings. In line with that, I decided to go with a mixture of both in this chapter.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter.

 **Title:** The Past Does Not Define Us

 **Rating:** T

 **Pairing:** Theodore Nott/Hermione Granger

 **Summary:** "I'm sorry." Those two words shot like an arrow through his soul and Theodore found that there was nothing he could do to stop himself from falling.

 **Warning(s):** Mentions of child abuse and suicidal thoughts.

 _Reviews:_

 _xXMizz Alec VolturiXx_ – Originally, I actually had trouble remembering how to spell your username. But since you review so often, I've memorized it. Lol thanks for reviewing again!

 _MulberryStreet_ – Thank you! I'm also a sucker for a well-written Theodore Nott – so many fanfics I see, however, have him as a stand-in for Draco (when Draco is nice) or having him be a mook with limited intelligence. It's actually insulting.

* * *

 **Chapter 11: Stubbornness**

January flew by without much affair, and soon, February 14th was just around the corner. With it came the whispers dying down ever since he had begun to avoid Granger; he supposed it had something to do with Valentine's Day approaching ( _can't focus on the Death Eater son in their midst when there were much more important things to be concerned about_ ). During this time, he tried to preoccupy himself with homework and classes and occasional trips to the kitchens. Even so, he always remained on edge, waiting for something to happen.

Daphne had wrote in her last letter that he was acting stupid; the blunt way with which she said it and her flowing cursive was familiar, but off-putting. Theodore felt queasy just thinking of the words – Daphne had always been able to get to the crux of an issue. She was not one to roll with the punches or back down (ice queen she may be, but there was a certainty with which she did things which Theodore envied but also despised).

They had actually tried dating shortly after he took her to the Yule Ball – she was bold, with nerves of steel, a burning passion, and scathing wit. Oftentimes, it was _Daphne_ , not Pansy, who sent little Hufflepuffs running away in tears. She had an army of boys lined up, including their mutual friend Blaise Zabini, asking for at least one chance to date the beautiful blonde, but Theodore was the only one who she said yes to, who she would _always_ say yes to (and _Theodore_ was head over heels for the bushy-haired brunet in Gryffindor; he had tried apologizing, but that seemed to just make her more upset).

They had known each other for years, even longer than Theodore knew Draco (which was saying something since Theodore had known Draco since they were 6). Everyone had thought that they would get married (but they didn't know the truth, about how even if Daphne wanted to get married, _Theodore didn't_ ) – they were Theodore and Daphne, Daphne and Theodore, one rarely seen without the other.

The issue of his father had always been a point of contention between the two of them, even when they had just been friends; dating her had just made the problem she had with it more blatant. It came to a head after the man was broken out from Azkaban in their sixth year – she yelled at him for an hour, maybe two, and he had let her. When she had finished, there had been no more words left between them and they broke it off (she was tired of the lack of communication and the heartache; he was tired of always hurting her, even when he didn't mean to).

She would always be a dear friend, but Theodore knew that some things just couldn't be fixed (now, they were _just_ Theodore and _just_ Daphne; they separated as had their house, divided by blood, prejudice, and loyalty to a dark lord who would bring ruin).

Even so, her letter had brought back the feelings that he had been trying to hide away ever since the winter holidays ended (Daphne had always been good at making Theodore see the truth, even if he wanted to avoid it).

He tried putting it out of his mind, but her brown hair still made him want to run his fingers through it, her smile still made his heart flutter, her laugh still made his insides turn to mulch – a reaction that Daphne had never been able to provoke, aside from slight discomfort and a fondness only reserved for a younger, much-loved sibling.

Granger kept trying to talk to him, kept pushing and pushing and pushing, trying to get his attention, but he never faltered in his stance. He turned his back on her, ran when she approached, avoided and dodged (turning his back on her smile, running from her soft voice, avoiding and dodging every attempt of hers to reach out to him).

However, no matter how much he pushed her away, she still kept trying. Inwardly, he cannot help but snort at how alike they both are.

The difference though was that while she wouldn't ever give up, he would (as he had done in the past; as he continues to do). He could feel her chipping at his walls, softening them, but never outright breaking them down.

It was only a matter of time until _he_ went to _her_.

He wondered if that was her plan all along.


	12. Comfort

**A/N:** I know that the situation with Daphne might seem confusing – if she and Theodore keep in contact with each other, then why would Theodore still be lonely (as previously pointed out in chapter 5)? Keep in mind, however, there is a big difference between _writing someone_ and _seeing_ that someone _in-person_. In addition, keep in mind that both Daphne and Theodore gave up on the relationship, which further affected the interactions they had with each other that occurred after the break up.

Just wanted to make things a bit clearer concerning that, in case anyone was confused.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter.

 **Title:** The Past Does Not Define Us

 **Rating:** T

 **Pairing:** Theodore Nott/Hermione Granger

 **Summary:** "I'm sorry." Those two words shot like an arrow through his soul and Theodore found that there was nothing he could do to stop himself from falling.

 **Warning(s):** Mentions of child abuse and suicidal thoughts.

 _Reviews:_

 _uhohspaghettiooos_ – Thanks so much!

 _xXMizz Alec VolturiXx_ – Thanks for reviewing again! :)

* * *

 **Chapter 12: Comfort**

It was Valentine's Day and he encountered an unexpected sight.

Theodore found _her_ sitting at the foot of the stairs that led up to the Owlery, knees drawn close to her chest, crunched up parchment, a letter he realized, in her hands. Her knuckles were white, her bushy hair bouncing in time with her sobs.

He froze.

Light streamed in through a nearby window, warming the room, casting a glow onto every object within. She was bathed in it, radiating warmth, hope, beauty, and happiness, but also a sadness and misery that he had never seen before, one that made his heart ache _he shouldn't be here, he should back away slowly, let her cry it out, and when she had calmed down they could go back to what they were before, with him ignoring her and her trying to get his attention. They could go back to how they had been before the war happened, before everything changed, to the time when they had been complete strangers that didn't have anyone else, didn't have anyone who knew truth from lie, fact from fiction. To a time when everything was simple, with her pushing against their unjust society, with him dancing to his father's tune as all pureblood sons and daughters were want to do._

 _They could go back to the days of their youth when Draco would sneer and belittle her, Potter, and Weasley; when Theodore was relatively left alone, when he was ignorant of life's truths, when he was a child and his mother would read to him before going to bed. Before his mother had died, before he was broken, before everything changed with a push down the stairs, throwing his life into a constant state of paranoia and fear, when she was a little girl growing up muggle and simple, without war, without magic, without ever meeting him-_

"Nott?"

Shit.

He stiffened under her scrutiny, her teary eyed suspicion – he didn't know what was written in that letter, but whatever it was made her cry; he bet it was Weasley, always making her cry, just like in sixth year, hell, just like back in _first_ _year_.

The hand in his pocket tightened around the handkerchief he carried as his mouth opened but no sound came out. He closed it, swallowing, eyes turning their gaze to the floor. Then timidly, his feet began to carry him towards her (she should stay away, she _needed_ to stay away, wait no, _he_ should get away from _her, he should stay away what was he doing_?).

Step.

 _Breathe Theodore._

Another step.

And another.

And another.

 _Breathe._

Theodore stopped when he could see her shoes in front of him.

He tilted his head up, eyes meeting hers.

 _WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!_

Hastily, he looked away. There was a very fascinating crack in the far wall, he wondered how that got there – he pulled out the handkerchief and held it out for her to take, cheeks flushing, teeth gritting, his heart pounding in his ears.

For a long moment, all he _could_ hear was the sound of his heart pounding in his ears.

Silence – he had fucked up, what was he doing _this wasn't part of the plan, what part of STAY AWAY FROM HER THEODORE didn't he get_ if she wasn't going to take the damn thing, he should just go _but he couldn't leave her, it was too late for that now that he had come this far, and she was sitting_ right there.

Theodore was pretty sure she could see his hand shaking and bit his tongue – _he could taste blood_ – and stood even straighter. His other hand, shoved deeply into the pockets of his school robes, clenched, his nails stabbing into his skin.

She touched his hand.

Time stopped.

Gently, Granger took the cloth from him. Smooth silk slide across his fingers before vanishing as if it had never been there in the first place. Theodore's panicking mind skidded to a halt, every thought, every modicum of self-hatred, disappearing, overcome by one resounding statement:

She took the handkerchief.

 _She took the handkerchief._

 _She took the handkerchief, she_ actually _took it._

For several seconds, Theodore stood dumbly, wondering if that had actually happened, wondering if this wasn't just a dream. The sound of her blowing into the cloth became the only sound in the room, aside from the racing of Theodore's heart along with the rushing of so many emotions, thoughts, and insecurities being blown asunder within him. Anxiety. Joy. Panic. Giddiness. Worry. Relief. And one that he had only felt when he helped his friends, something that he hadn't done (or hadn't had a chance to do) in a long time. The feeling of _being useful_ and the associating emotions that came with it practically knocked him off his feet, making him sway where he stood.

Then he realized that he still had his hand outstretched. Theodore jammed it into his robes' pocket. He hoped she hadn't noticed.

She did.

Granger's tiny giggle was muffled by the cloth blocking most of her face, but her eyes lit up and he could see the creases of laughter that dominated her expression. Despite growing redder and only making her laugh harder, Theodore could not help but hide the grin that she managed to somehow crack out of him _breaking his mask for her, only her, for a moment lowering his walls so she could see if she looked carefully_.

He made her smile.

He made her _laugh_.

The thought just made his grin wider.


	13. The Idea

_**IMPORTANT NOTICE: I PUT UP A POLL ON MY PROFILE ABOUT WHAT TITLE YOU GUYS WOULD LIKE BEST FOR A "THE PAST DOES NOT DEFINE US: HERMIONE EDITION"! PLEASE VOTE AND LET ME KNOW!**_

 **A/N:** What's this?! An EARLY update!? Yeah, I couldn't contain myself by waiting to upload this one – I got super excited. My exams start tomorrow and after that I'll have two weeks off before class starts up again in September. Lots of time to write and hopefully I'll have another chapter out for you guys soon!

On a side note, has anyone heard of the game Helllblade: Senua's Sacrifice? It was just developed and released by Ninja Theory a couple weeks ago. It's a super cool concept, the story's AMAZING, and the dev team actually consulted people who, like Senua, suffer from mental illness, as well as other health care professionals, in order to make it as authentic as possible.

I could go on and on about Hellblade, but that's not the story you people are here for. It jogged my creative juices though, but I'm going to finish this story first and do a ton of research before I do anything with it (IF I get around to it).

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter.

 **Title:** The Past Does Not Define Us

 **Rating:** T

 **Pairing:** Theodore Nott/Hermione Granger

 **Summary:** "I'm sorry." Those two words shot like an arrow through his soul and Theodore found that there was nothing he could do to stop himself from falling.

 **Warning(s):** Mentions of child abuse and suicidal thoughts.

* * *

 **Chapter 13: The Idea**

They're still giggling over Theodore making a fool of himself when he gets the idea.

It's a terrible idea. A _terrible_ idea. A terrible and wonderful idea that makes him feel giddy inside never mind the fact that she already has a boyfriend – though the quality of said boyfriend is up in the air at this point, in Theodore's humble opinion – but it's bound to make her feel better. And that's really all that matters in the end _he would do anything for her, anything at all, she just had to say the word_.

The question was whether or not she would agree.

He hoped she would say yes; he glanced sideways at her, unable to keep a smile off his face.

 _What if she said no though?_

Everything came rushing back.

 _What if she said no?_ He frowned, turning away from her.

 _What would he do then? What even was this, this_ companionship _that they had? Were they friends? Who would even consider him their friend (someone_ not Slytherin _; the others in his year, Draco and Blaise and Daphne and the rest, they were like him, broken and clutching at each other, desperately scrambling to keep themselves from drowning under the current of disappointment society and their parents cast them into – how could they_ not _be friends after that sort of thing? No one from the other houses would understand, could understand)?_

It was a terrible idea.

"Nott?"

A touch to his shoulder.

He flinched. His head jerked and her face came into view. Her hand remained frozen in the air between them.

Theodore flushed. He swallowed and looked away, back to that crack in the wall he noticed earlier.

"Sorry."

"Don't apologize," she replied, "I shouldn't have startled you."

They stood in silence; him consumed by anxiety, her with pensive curiosity. Theodore felt a shiver creep up his spine, like the claws of a cat climbing up one's leg, sharp talons digging into flesh and inciting a special kind of agony that few ever had the pleasure of experiencing _not as bad as the Dark Lord though, nothing could ever match him_. He wondered what he looked like to her – _the world was crumbling under his feet and she was the only thing keeping him grounded_ – was he calm and collected? Detached? Straight backed with head held high like his father had always wanted him to be? Somehow, he doubted ever, in his whole life, being _that_ put together.

He hoped he wasn't a mess.

 _Then_ he remembered that he had run straight from Divination, finally managing to escape Luna Lovegood's seemingly all-seeing gaze, in order to get to the Owlery to send letters to Blaise and Draco _he was fine, everything was fine, don't worry about me, you should just focus on your studies Draco, don't you want to become a healer? And Blaise, what about that beautiful Italian girl you were talking about in your last letter?_ Somehow, he had forgotten about the sweat dripping down his neck and the cold stickiness that made his clothes cling to his back, oh God, what kind of pureblood heir was he?

"What are you thinking about?"

Her voice cut straight through the noise and he mentally swore – _she was_ right there _, how could you get so caught up in_ yourself _? You_ don't _matter, she was the one crying not even a minute ago, you selfish bastard!_

Theodore shrugged, giving her a smile that he hoped she wouldn't see through before turning away again _you're fake, a liar, just as bad as your father,_ worse _than your father_.

"Nothing important."

The words came out forced _there was no way she hadn't noticed_.

She said nothing.

He tensed as she moved around to stand in front of him, reaching up _he was so much taller than her_ to gently touch his chin with her hand. He allowed her to move him, turning his gaze to look down at her.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked again, words slow.

Those brown eyes.

He couldn't say no to those brown eyes.

Theodore's tongue felt like lead, his throat as dry as sand paper. A million thoughts went through his mind, but somehow, she brought everything into focus. The traitorous thought, the single idea that started the dissecting and debilitating inner monologue came to the forefront.

He couldn't hide that from her.

"I just got an idea," he confessed. She raised an eyebrow, silently urging him on.

"It's a _terrible_ idea," he continued, "A terrible, terrifying, rotten, wonderful idea and I shouldn't have even thought of it in the first place. But you were upset, and I couldn't think of anything else, all I could think about was that you were crying and I needed to make everything better and then the idea hit me. And I thought it was brilliant, it would certainly make you feel better but then I thought what if you said no? What if you didn't want to go through with it? What if-?"

"Yes."

Theodore blinked, mouth clamping shut. Granger smiled, her cheeks reddening and eyes darting away before coming back to stare directly into his soul.

"Whatever your idea is, I'd love to hear it," she said. Her voice was soft, her eyes shone with honesty, and the hand on his chin fell, her hands clasping together as she looked up at him with curious anticipation.

Stunned, Theodore could only stare at her.


	14. The Girl

**A/N:** So originally, I was going to have Hermione use Theo to get to Ron; basically a giant love triangle mess that has been done a lot. But instead I ended up writing something completely different from what I had planned (which happens a lot and doesn't even surprise me at this point). Frankly, I'm glad that this happened, since I didn't particularly like the old idea, but at the same time, I now have to work around this new one.

This chapter and another far in the future, were ALSO originally one chapter, but I changed it to two since the point of each part was a bit different. _And_ I like the symmetry of the chapter titles I came up with. So there's that.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter.

 **Title:** The Past Does Not Define Us

 **Rating:** T

 **Pairing:** Theodore Nott/Hermione Granger

 **Summary:** "I'm sorry." Those two words shot like an arrow through his soul and Theodore found that there was nothing he could do to stop himself from falling.

 **Warning(s):** Mentions of child abuse and suicidal thoughts.

* * *

 **Chapter 14: The Girl**

 _Don't pick at your food, she's watching._

Theodore's eyes shifted to the bushy haired girl in front of him, silently eating her chocolate cake. She had frowned when one of the house elves, Tinky, practically tripped over himself to bring it to her, but from what Theodore could tell, she was enjoying it (he preferred vanilla, but today was for her, not for him).

Her eyes were still red, but she seemed better than she had been when he found her. A steaming cup of hot chocolate sat beside her plate, already half finished, and the cake was slowly disappearing.

However, there was tenseness in her shoulders; Theodore could see it in the way she hunched over, in the way she struggled to put each bite of the dessert in her mouth, in the way that the silence enveloped them totally and utterly, despite the hustle and bustle and noise that surrounded them from the house elves at work, preparing for the evening meal.

It made his toes curl, the silence, like ants climbing up his back – _his father staring at him with narrowed eyes and pursed lips, not saying a word_ – it brought back memories that Theodore squashed quickly _today was for her, for her, he could forget about his father long enough to make her happy again_.

He should probably say something.

He _needed_ to say something.

"… Do you like the ca-?"

"I'm sorry!"

Granger's head had snapped up, cutting him off leaving the two staring at each other, mouths hanging open. Her face turned red.

"Were you about to say something?" She backpedalled. "Of course you were about to say something, I just cut you off! I'm so sorry!"

"I-It's alright," he replied shrugging _it was nothing, if she had something to say, than she had every right to speak, more so then him_. Granger's eyes flashed, but she settled down; Theodore noticed that her hair followed her example (he would never say how cute he found it to be to her face though).

For a moment, the silence engulfed them once again.

"I am sorry, you know," she said quietly.

"It's not your fault," Theodore replied, slowly. What was she apologizing for? He couldn't think of anything that would warrant an apology. Except, perhaps, the war. But the war was not her fault. The treatment he faced afterwards was not her fault. She wasn't at fault for anything that had gone wrong with him, and he wanted to let her know that _but he didn't know how_.

She shook her head, moving the now empty plate off to the side next to the finished cup of hot chocolate.

"I'm sorry for how _I_ have been treating you."

Theodore's brow furrowed in confusion.

"It wasn't right!" Her brown eyes narrowed and she gripped the wooden table between them with both of her hands.

She wasn't looking at him.

"At first I thought that I was just being friendly, that I-I just wanted to help, but then somehow along the way I kept finding ways to spend time with you, to always be around you, and I didn't realize that I was just… just… making up excuses for myself! That I'm here, _by myself_ , and that I was just making up for the fact that Ron and Harry _aren't here_ , that I'm lonely and selfish and… and…"

She gulped.

"And that you didn't deserve me treating you like… like, a means to an end, a way to stave off my own loneliness! You didn't deserve that! I enjoy our talks, I love spending time with you, but I didn't realize that I just liked having someone who didn't look at me like a hero! Like… like some _goddess_ in human flesh!"

Her eyes snapped to his then, brown meeting blue, and he blinked upon seeing the intensity in them – he couldn't look away, even if he wanted to _which he didn't_.

"Then you left me. _You left_ and I was left alone and I couldn't be without you; I stalked and followed and tried to get you to talk to me, but you wouldn't and I realized that _you had figured me out_! You had to have figured me out, why else would you leave me alone? I was lonely and I wanted someone to talk to, and you were there and I took you for granted without even realizing it until you left and _I knew_. I knew that you had me figured out before I knew it myself."

Granger breathed heavily, her forehead meeting the table. The plate and cup rattled from the impact.

"I'm sorry for just realizing it now," she murmured. Despite the movements of the elves, Theodore could hear her almost as if she were right next to him. "I'm sorry for being an idiot. I know that you're just pitying me – why else would you have given me that handkerchief? Why else would you have put up with my crying?

"You can go. I won't stop you."

Theodore wasn't sure what to do. She was breathing quietly to herself, muffled sobs coming out in shaking gasps. He could only sit stock still and stare as the sounds of the elves around them tapered off into a distant drone.

Was that what she thought?

That he _pitied_ her?

Such a statement could never be more false.

But there she sat, a girl forced into adulthood early due to war and hardship, struggling with insecurity and doubting the fruits that had come about from her labour. A _normal person_ , who had the same doubts and fears as he, driven by the same loneliness that drives him, the same irrational fear for acceptance.

Hermione Granger, just like Theodore Nott, was affected by the war's outcome – while he had to deal with the scorn from the masses, she had to deal with the overwhelming praise and publicity following her everywhere she went, never leaving her alone, but at the same time, isolating her.

How had he not seen that before?


	15. The Realization

**A/N:** DOUBLE UPDATE! Also, I'm going to apologize in advance for this chapter. I am so sorry.

Just in regards to Hermione – she's been going through her own personal problems that are completely separate from Theodore and his. The pressure of being looked upon constantly as a role model and heroine from the war is cracking down on her and she's feeling it. This is why I want to do a Hermione version of TPDNDU, so that I can go into depth with it more and bring insight to other things from Theodore's story, such as how she views him and how he impacts her.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter.

 **Title:** The Past Does Not Define Us

 **Rating:** T

 **Pairing:** Theodore Nott/Hermione Granger

 **Summary:** "I'm sorry." Those two words shot like an arrow through his soul and Theodore found that there was nothing he could do to stop himself from falling.

 **Warning(s):** Mentions of child abuse and suicidal thoughts.

* * *

 **Chapter 15: The Realization**

 _How had he not seen that before?_

How could he be so selfish? Only focusing on himself when at the same time idolizing and worshipping her as if she were a goddess, just like so many others? When had he lost sight of her humility? When had he lost sight of her _humanity_?

Theodore stood from the bench and made his way around to her side of the table. He sat next to her, taking her hands and clasping them in his own. She turned her head to look at him; he saw sadness, confusion, and a blush on her cheeks.

He had been blinded by her brilliance, blinded by her virtue, blinded by her intelligence. Blinded by the magnificence that was Hermione Granger, smartest witch of her generation, best friend of Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. He had been so blinded by the legend that he had forgotten that she was just as human as he, just as flawed as he. He had forgotten that she had been normal once until the war turned her into a storybook heroine.

Theodore sighed.

" _Loneliness and the feeling of being unwanted is the most terrible poverty_ (1)," he murmured to her, rubbing his thumbs along the backs of her hands.

"You know Mother Teresa?" Granger asked. The remnants of her sobs were evident in her voice, her breathlessness, it was evident in her shaking shoulders, in her pale hands.

He felt his lips twitch.

"I know a lot of things, Hermione Granger," Theodore said wryly.

"I can tell," she replied, snorting. He snuck a glance at her to see her staring at their joined hands, her lips forming a slight smile despite her earlier misery. _Good_ , he thought, _just another push_.

" _We have all known the long loneliness, and we have found that the answer is community_ (2)," he added, slowly. _What_ great _advice, Theodore_ , he thought with concealed amusement, _maybe you should take a page out of your own book_.

He could feel her looking at him and he mustered up the courage to look back. Her brown eyes were narrowed in thought, twinkling twin lights that held warmth and sincerity. He matched it with his own, hoping, praying that she would see his own empathy. He stared into those pools of chocolate and gently squeezed her hands.

"You are _not_ alone, Granger," Theodore whispered. _I am here, you are not alone; you have me. You thought you were using me, but in truth, I was using you. I was blind. I didn't see the truth in front of my own eyes. For that, I am_ so _sorry._

Granger stared at him, picking him apart piece by piece. He wondered what she saw; whatever it was, he hoped it was good. Then, she smiled.

"Call me Hermione," the brown eyed girl said. "We're friends, aren't we?"

He swallowed.

Then, he returned her smile, his heart cracking.

"Yeah. Friends."

* * *

1 – Mother Teresa

2 – Dorothy Day


	16. The Difference

**A/N:** Sorry about not updating for a while – school started up again, I've started playing D &D with some friends (for the first time, so we're all learning our roles and trying to find times to play that match up with all of our schedules), I need to talk to my boss about hours, [insert other stuff that you probably don't care about here].

In short, I've been busy. As **Fridays** are some of the least busy days I have, I'll probably stick to **updating** then, **bi or triweekly**. I'll let you guys know if I need to stop updating for a time because of schoolwork or other.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter.

 **Title:** The Past Does Not Define Us

 **Rating:** T

 **Pairing:** Theodore Nott/Hermione Granger

 **Summary:** "I'm sorry." Those two words shot like an arrow through his soul and Theodore found that there was nothing he could do to stop himself from falling.

 **Warning(s):** Mentions of child abuse and suicidal thoughts.

* * *

 **Chapter 16: The Difference**

There's something different now.

That's what Theodore thinks to himself whenever Hermione sees or speaks to him. She's more open, her smiles more frequent, her eyes lighting up, bright and flickering. She flags him down in the halls, rushing over with her bushy hair bouncing all the while, and he finds himself stopping (even before he avoided her, he would only slow his stride until she caught up; it's the little things that he hadn't noticed before).

Even the other students had noticed that something changed.

Maybe it was in the way she looked better, healthier, less like a walking corpse with haunted eyes and a mile-long stare (he kicks himself for not noticing before, for being blind to her faults). Maybe it was in the way she ate more at meals, when she would walk with a skip to her step and a slight swing of her hips. Maybe it was in the way her hand shot into the air like lightning, mimicking her habits from when things were simpler.

Whatever it was, people were beginning to associate the change with him.

He could see it – the suspicious stares in stone hallways between classes and the sudden silences when he enters a room (but to be fair, he had always been able to see it, unable to ignore it; he starts to understand what Potter might have felt like whenever something happened). They would watch as Hermione would run up to him, chattering excitedly about something or another, silent, judging, analyzing. He could feel their piercing gazes digging into his back, making tingles creep up his spine.

Dread. Anxiety. Worry. These were emotions that he was used to feeling, especially with her. But something has changed, he realized. Not just with her, but also with him.

The glares, while vicious, have lost most of their bite ( _when he's with her, he can push them aside; when he's with her, nothing else matters_ ). Hermione helps when she's with him; her presence alone could brighten a room, could influence his mood for good or ill. She makes him stronger. So much stronger that he can almost ignore the burden he carries.

 _Almost_.

For every silent stare, there's another that is spiteful, arrogant, degrading (it stares at him from his dorm's bathroom mirror, from the windows, plates, and cutlery where he can see his reflection). For every whisper behind his back, there is another that is in his ear, hissing its disapproval (the doubts in his mind made manifest, always sounding exactly like his father). He knows that it's just his past coming back to haunt him, and he desperately tries to block it out, to pretend that it doesn't exist, because _she needs him_ , she said so herself, she needed him to be strong, when she couldn't be.

And if that was because all she needed was a friend, then that was fine with him.

Even though her hand clutched his heart, squeezing, squeezing, _squeezing_ , tighter and tighter and tighter, that was fine with him.

It was fine.

It was fine.

 _It was fine_.


	17. The Misunderstanding

**A/N:** I'm super sorry for the late update guys! When I was clearing out the clutter on my laptop, I accidently deleted the folder that had _all_ of my Harry Potter stories. Luckily, I managed to restore it, but I still ended up losing all of the progress I made on this chapter, so I had to start from scratch. :( Also, I've just been super busy with midterms to work on anything. BUT I PROMISE, I WILL FINISH THIS STORY, GOD DAMNIT.

With that in mind, I'm not sure when I'll have time to work on and then post the next chapter, so just bear with me please. Finally, welcome to any new people who decided to follow this piece of trash – thanks so much!

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter.

 **Title:** The Past Does Not Define Us

 **Rating:** T

 **Pairing:** Theodore Nott/Hermione Granger

 **Summary:** "I'm sorry." Those two words shot like an arrow through his soul and Theodore found that there was nothing he could do to stop himself from falling.

 **Warning(s):** Mentions of child abuse and suicidal thoughts.

* * *

 **Chapter 17: The Misunderstanding**

It's an early Saturday morning in the Great Hall. Light shone through the giant window behind the teacher's table, illuminating silverware, glasses of pumpkin juice, and clean plates. A large majority of the student population was nowhere to be seen, choosing instead to spend the time sleeping in.

Across the hall however, Hermione sat at the Gryffindor table with Weasley's younger sister. The girl Weasley hunched over her breakfast, dressed in her Quidditch robes – Theodore presumed that she had practice later that day – while a gigantic open book laid in front of Hermione. The brunet frantically flipped through its pages, her hair frizzing. Occasionally, she would turn to the notes on her other side and hurriedly mark something down. Theodore's lip twitched and returned his attention to buttering his toast.

Exams were still two months away and she was already stressing. _How endearing_.

As Theodore placed the butter knife back onto the table, he glanced back over to where Hermione was sitting. He wondered what subject she was reviewing – Transfiguration? Charms? Maybe History of Magic – now that he thought about it, he should probably start reviewing for that too. Maybe Hermione would be willing to help him?

With that thought, the sound of fluttering wings began to echo throughout the Great Hall – the early risers all looked up to the windows as the first wave of owls flew into the room, letters and copies of the Daily Prophet in their talons.

A proud, black horned owl swooped down to land on the table beside Theodore. With a dismissive gaze, it stuck its leg out to hand him a beige envelope sealed with wax. He smiled, picking up a piece of bacon and handing it to the stuffy bird, then took the letter from its grasp. It sat beside him, nibbling on its treat while he examined the envelope before putting it down on the table.

An indignant squawk pierced through the peaceful silence, causing everyone in the hall to look over to the Gryffindor table.

A tiny owl carrying a heavy envelope in its talons crashed in front of Hermione and the girl Weasley, barrelling over two empty glasses and landing in a plate of scrambled eggs. Theodore saw Hermione leap to her feet, carefully helping the creature out from the mess, while Weasley began to clean its feathers with her napkin. It let out a pathetic croon, shifting in their grasp to prod at the crumpled envelope that it delivered.

He watched as Hermione picked it up, watched as her eyes widened in delight, watched as Weasley smiled mischievously and nudged at the bushy haired girl with her elbow when she sat back down. He watched as she _blushed_ in response, stuffing the letter into her bag, before returning to her previous activity. Then she noticed him staring, raised a hand, and gave him an awkward wave. Theodore forced himself to wave back, forced himself to give her a smirk and a quirked eyebrow, forced himself to ignore the way his fist tightened on the table in front of him, knuckles turning white.

A sharp pain erupted from his hand ( _he could feel the sharp end of the butter knife digging into his palm_ ) but he ignored it in favor of turning his attention away from Hermione to the beige envelope that he received.

Daphne would know what he should do.

She was better with feelings than he was.

( _She was better than him at a lot of things; she was his better half_ )

He stood from the table, grabbing the letter and stuffing his bloodied hand into his jacket pocket. Daphne's owl, Ophelia, gave a disgruntled hoot, staring up at him with distaste. With a wince, Theodore offered the bird his arm, which it climbed up to rest on his left shoulder.

With that he left the Great Hall, pain in his hand, pain in his heart, and the feeling of Hermione's confused gaze following him as he walked away.


	18. The Doubt

**A/N** : Many apologies for the super late update! Life got in the way of everything, as it does. But I am back! Updates might be slow coming from now on cause of university and stuff, but I swear that I will finish this story!

 **Disclaimer** : I do not own Harry Potter.

 **Rating** : T

 **Pairing** : Theodore Nott/Hermione Granger

 **Summary** : "I'm sorry." Those two words shot like an arrow through his soul and Theodore found that there was nothing he could do to stop himself from falling.

 **Warning(s)** : Mentions of child abuse and suicidal thoughts.

* * *

 **Chapter 18: The Doubt**

It's windy atop the Astronomy Tower.

The night air is a crisp and warm, especially with the summer months approaching. Theodore stares up at the sky, where twinkling stars blink in and out of view and wonders what it would be like to be one of them. To be that far away, that disconnected from the world around him, to be untouchable, unattainable, _unbreakable_ ( _he's cracked, he's cracked, he'scracked_ ).

He wonders why he bothered to get close to her. Of course she would go back to Weasley. It was an inevitability, a predetermined destiny, fate, or whatever you wanted to call it. To be so close yet so far away (like a star, she was bright and burning and beautiful and utterly unattainable) – he wonders whether the past few months had been worth it.

He reaches up to the sky, trying to grasp at least one of the flickering stars.

(He failed)

The wind howls in his ears, burning his eyes, whipping his hair to and fro. His bandaged hand clenches at his side and he winces – the pain brings clarity and truth.

He already sent his letter to Daphne. She was always the more sensible of the two of them ( _He told her "In another world." She grasped his hands, pleading, "why not this one?" Why not this one indeed? She would have been the sensible choice_ ). He wonders how long he could wait – his angel, his unattainable star was already suspicious.

Theodore chokes out a laugh.

His – he called her " _his_."

How selfish of him.

 _He doesn't deserve to be selfish_.


	19. The Letter

**Disclaimer** : I do not own Harry Potter.

 **Rating** : T

 **Pairing** : Theodore Nott/Hermione Granger

 **Summary** : "I'm sorry." Those two words shot like an arrow through his soul and Theodore found that there was nothing he could do to stop himself from falling.

 **Warning(s)** : Mentions of child abuse and suicidal thoughts.

* * *

 **Chapter 19: The Letter**

 _Dear Daphne,_

 _When we were young, you were always smarter than I. Wiser than I. More sensible than I. Bolder than I. More courageous than I. More decisive, more blunt, more straight forward. Even to this day, you are all of these things. You are, and will always be, my better half._

 _So I plead with you._

 _You know how useless I am with matters of the heart. So I beg your forgiveness in asking you what I should do._

 _She received a letter. You can probably guess from who. It made her_ so _happy, Daphne. Happier than I have seen her in a while. I don't want to take that happiness away (and I know that you would step in, that's just the kind of person you are) and I don't want to ruin whatever we have now._

 _As such I implore your assistance._

 _Sincerely (and with many apologies),_

 _Theodore N._


	20. The Reply

**Disclaimer** : I do not own Harry Potter.

 **Rating** : T

 **Pairing** : Theodore Nott/Hermione Granger

 **Summary** : "I'm sorry." Those two words shot like an arrow through his soul and Theodore found that there was nothing he could do to stop himself from falling.

 **Warning(s)** : Mentions of child abuse and suicidal thoughts.

* * *

 **Chapter 20: The Reply**

 _Dearest Theodore,_

 _I see you are still a poet._

 _I'm going to assume the letter is from Ron Weasley?_

 _The question is rhetorical, do not reply to that._

 _If the letter makes her happy, then who are you to take that away from her? Don't beat yourself up over it. (And I know you will, don't even try to deny it.)_

 _My advice? Give her and her boy toy some space. She said that you were friends right? Well then act like one, and give the girl some room so that she and the weasel can do whatever it is that couples do._

 _Your friendship with her is the most important thing to salvage from this._

 _With much love and affection,_

 _Daphne G._


End file.
